I See Fire
by SaidWhatIMeant
Summary: Separated from everyone else, Beth and Daryl look for comfort in each other. Fully guilty pleasure Bethyl one-shot. M for a reason.


**So, I've been on a bit of a hiatus, and I apologize for that. School and life called. I have another story going that I fully intend to continue, but I have a soft spot for Bethyl and this demanded to be written. Especially after that episode with the eye-fucking over the kitchen table, which really needed an explanation. Y'all know what I'm talking about. If you tell me you don't want this to happen at least a little bit... I'll say that you're lying ;) So read, enjoy! Thank you to ChooseJoy and MollyMayhem84 for being fantastic and hilarious and wonderful. Title taken from Ed Sheeran's "I See Fire."**

The strike of the match as he lit the fireplace in the small house they had found was the loudest thing Daryl had heard since they cleared the place out. He looked back at Beth, who had already dropped her bag in the corner of the living room and was sitting down a few feet away, and then back down at his matches. Five left. He shouldn't be using them, should have made camp outside, but figured maybe they deserved to have some solid walls for a night. He would have to teach her how to make a fire without the extra help. Wasn't hard. He chanced a glance at her as he sat down, thinking maybe he could teach her now just to fill the silence, but the look on her face made him change his mind.

The flames at least took quickly. He knew how to build a fire, if nothing else. He counted it as a list in his head as he sat down next to her. He had fed them. He had fire. He had shelter. He had the basics down, but now that he was done he was fucking lost on what to do.

Three days since the prison fell, and he'd guess there'd been about ten words between the two of them since. It wasn't like he missed the chatter, but the silence from the shell of a girl next to him wasn't sitting right with him.

Not that he was doing much better. Wasn't a lot going right for them. Home gone. Family gone. Everything lost. But still, he was used to shit like this, knew how to block it out to focus on what needed to be done now. Beth, he knew, wasn't doing as well. He was used to her smiling, missed that edge of innocence she had managed to keep through it all. The balance was fucked to shit again, and watching this girl getting taken with it was hard, a reminder of what he'd lost, what everyone had lost.

He was fucking pissed as hell about all of it, and he wasn't sure if he could fix any of it.

His eyes flicked over to where she was sitting next to him. She was staring right at the flames, but he could tell she wasn't really there. Her arms wrapped around her knees, hands clenched on wrists so tight he saw nails about to break skin. She was filthier than he'd seen her in a while, a sharpening of cheekbones and angles, a hollowness in her eyes that told him she wasn't a kid no more. He'd noticed that for a while, now, had seen her grow from airy teenager to capable woman. But that didn't mean he had to accept the hollowness he saw now. Girl was screwed up pretty bad. He could see it all over her, and there wasn't a damn thing he could think to say.

He put his eyes back on the fire, hoping she couldn't sense him looking. Last thing he wanted was to coddle her, and he was sure she wouldn't care for it, either. But where the hell did that leave him? He thought back as a stick cracked in the fire, trying to remember what people had told him after his mom burned herself out.

Daryl cleared his throat. "Your daddy, he, uh…" He swallowed hard, glancing over at her to see how his words were being taken, but it looked like she hadn't heard him at all. Shit. He should've thought this through before he opened his mouth. Why was talking so fucking difficult? His words hung out in the air between them, awkward and incomplete, and he couldn't even think of the right thing to say. "He was a good man," he finally finished.

But still nothing. This was the first he had dared even mention what had happened, and now he was thinking it would've been best to keep to quiet. He wasn't even sure she had blinked, her eyes glazed over. "My mom," he tried again, his talk with Carl coming to mind, and he was almost excited that he might have something to say.

But her head snapped towards his, shutting him up. "She's dead," she said blankly, her voice dry from lack of use.

He blinked at her. "Yeah," he confirmed lamely, his already low confidence in this kind of comfort fading fast.

She looked back at the fire. "Carl told me. And everyone's dead now anyways," she said, resting her chin back on her knees, and the words didn't sound right in her sing song voice.

He didn't want to disagree with her, knowing there was every chance that she was right, but he couldn't just let her keep on like this. "You dunno that. Could always go back. Track 'em down."

"So we can follow a bus on foot?"

He paused before answering, ignoring her snark. "It ain't all lost yet, girl."

But, instead of looking even slightly comforted, she snorted. "Don't call me that. I'm as much a 'girl' as you are by now."

He raised his eyebrows. A comment like that deserved a comeback, but he was honestly just relieved that she was still talking. Anything was better than the blank numbness that had started to spread to him, too. "Sorry."

She sighed. "S'alright. I'm used to bein' babied by now."

He thought on it for a second, trying to think if he was guilty of that, too. It wasn't her fault. Girl just had a look about her that needed protecting, that same innocence he missed. "Don't make it right, though," he said, to her as well as himself. "You've done good. I mean it," he added when her only response was to turn slightly away. He felt he was onto something with his encouragements, noticed a slight change in her demeanor.

"All I did was take care of Judith. You're the one who kept things goin'." She paused. "You and daddy. And Judith might not even be-" she stopped, her voice cracking. "Might not be-"

And then, to his absolute horror, she burst out into tears, her body shaking as back bending sobs wracked through her. Daryl could count on one hand the number of times he had shed any tears himself, and real panic started to form as he struggled to think of what to do. A big part of him wanted to leave her some space, but he couldn't risk having her alone. Another fear hit him as he remembered her brief suicide scare back when they'd still had the farm.

He looked away, knowing that if the roles were switched he'd want to be ignored. He sneaked another look at her, knowing instinctively that he had to do something, but again not knowing what. He felt that touching her would be crossing some sort of line, but just watching her break without doing a thing didn't feel right, either.

He slowly slid over the ground so he was closer to her and, when there was no sign of a break in her tears, put his arm gently around her shoulders.

Daryl half expected her to push him off, but instead she turned into him, pressing her face wet with tears into his neck, her arms wrapping snugly around his torso. He stiffened completely, not wanting to remove her, but not exactly comfortable, neither.

Slowly, though, second by second, he relaxed, putting his arm more firmly around her, securing her to him. This wasn't his strong suit, he knew, but Beth was as much his family as Rick and Merle.

He let her stay like that for a minute before speaking.

"Hey," he said, softly as he could manage. She looked up at him, her face much closer to his than he had anticipated. He was lost for a second, distracted by her proximity, her big blue eyes so focused on him that he lost track of his words. As their eyes locked, something passed between them. A tingling like electricity shot up from the base of his spine, making him go suddenly rigid. "You, uh," he started, but had to pick a spot on the wall just behind her head in order to continue. "You can do this. Might seem now like ya can't, but I've seen ya be strong. Just gotta…" He shrugged, not sure where he was going, but at least her tears had slowed while he bumbled through his speech. "Just gotta keep livin'. Can't shut down like this. 'Specially not with me," he added, thinking of the half assed job he was doing keeping her sane.

Beth ducked her head back down into the crook of his shoulder. "I know. 'M'sorry," she said, her words muffled by his skin. "I'm glad I'm with you."

He wanted to say something, but he was now distinctly aware of how completely they were touching, and that look she had given him moments ago kept flashing in his mind. He very suddenly wanted- needed- to let her go, get himself out of this before his thoughts could go further.

He was just trying to think of all his escape routes when he felt her move. He wasn't sure what it was at first, positive that he was misunderstanding the suddenly frantic pressing of her lips into his neck. But, as she made her way closer to his ear, there was no mistaking the sound and feel of soft kisses against his skin.

He froze again, completely rigid as her lips met his jaw. His heart was pounding now, his concentration focused in on where she was touching him, his vision and senses clear in a way that he normally only got from hunting and fighting. His arms around her tightened as his muscles grew stiff. He angled his head back, trying to disconnect her, but instead felt her mouth covering even more territory on his neck.

An instant sense of wrongness hit him hard, almost as strongly as the guilt he felt for not pushing her off as soon as she started. She was young, upset, confused, and he sure as hell wasn't going to be the kind of man that let this continue. He withdrew his hands from her completely, wanting to negate the way their bodies were touching without just pushing her off completely. But, as soon as he let her go, he lost his center of balance, and found himself falling backwards to the floor with a startled Beth falling on top of him.

But she quickly adjusted, her leg swinging over him so that she was straddling his hips, and he could see from the excitement on her face that she had misread his falling for being on purpose.

"Beth," he said firmly, wanting to reach out and stop her as she bent forward but reluctant to touch her again. "Ya gotta stop."

She froze, but he could see a flurry of hurt, concern, and embarrassment flit across her face. She sat back up, unfortunately centering her weight between his hips. He looked up to the ceiling, tucking his lower lip between his teeth as his fingers dug into the carpet. "Gotta get off, girl," he said, his voice way more fucking strained than he wanted. "This ain't right."

But instead of moving, she dug forward, her knees coming in to squeeze his ribs. He looked at her angrily - he would pick her up and take her off his damn self if she wasn't gone in the next few seconds - but was taken aback to find her already staring at him, her eyes narrowing and her mouth set, clearly pissed.

"I told you, don't call me that," she snapped. "Why not?"

He was losing patience fast. "The hell you mean, why not? This ain't up for debate, Beth. You ain't thinkin' straight. Now ya need to get off 'fore I do it for ya."

"I ain't a kid, Daryl. I'm grown. Grown enough to see the way you've looked at me."

His mind went blank and then raced, and he could feel his fucking face getting red. "You dunno what the hell you're sayin'," he barked defensively, and sat up.

He had thought that she would fall back, but his plan backfired, bringing him face to face with a pissed off Beth still situated firmly in his lap.

She huffed at him for a second, staring him down, nostrils flaring as her chest heaved with barely checked anger. Then, before he could push her off, she bent forward, catching him in a not at all gentle kiss. He snapped his head back on instinct, not ready for the sudden move.

"Beth," he repeated warningly, but it was all he could muster. A red alert was going off in the back of his mind. Push her off. Stop this. Don't let this fucking happen. But he couldn't get himself to act on any of them.

She leaned forward again slower this time, and every inch of her body that met his was like a wake up call, making him completely alert and aware of the way she fit against him. She was moving both too fast and too slow, and while there was some whispering voice of consciousness saying this needed to stop, it wasn't enough to beat out the pulsing he felt all over his body as her face got closer to his. He could feel her hot breath on his cheek, featherlight fingertips on the skin of his arms, squeezing pressure from her legs wrapped around him. He wasn't sure where to put his hands, afraid to touch her, so he kept them firmly by his sides, hands nearly boring holes into the floor.

She kissed his jaw, just once, barely even there, her mouth skimming across his cheek to the corner of his mouth. There was so much anticipation that he could feel it all over his skin, and he was having trouble remembering exactly who it was that was making him feel this way. Beth. Young. Too fucking young. And he should definitely care more than he did.

She took his hands from where they still sat clenched on the floor and guided them to her sides, her raised shirt getting his hands directly on her skin.

"You can touch me," she whispered, and the speed of her pants matched his own. There was a small catch in her breath as he flexed his fingers experimentally against her waist. "I need you to touch me," she added quietly, pressing her temple against his, and he couldn't help the tightening of his hands on her body.

"Where?" he asked, because he really needed to know.

"Anywhere," she whispered, her breath catching again and picking up twice as fast. "Everywhere. Please."

The desperation in her voice got him hot, and hard. This was past out of control, but as he watched her close her eyes, he wasn't sure he gave a shit. He watched as she got closer, her nose skimming along his cheekbone, but blinked his eyes shut as her lips touched against his. He couldn't move at first, just holding her as her mouth picked up more traction. He was afraid to reciprocate and damn himself more than he already had, the guilt still nagging him.

He didn't want to open his eyes as her mouth worked furiously against his, and instead focused on touch, memorizing and imagining and feeling with his hands as they worked the expanse of her body beneath her shirt: the ridges of her pronounced ribs followed by the smoothness of her navel, skin stretched tight over hip bones, and, as fragile as she seemed, there was no hesitation or weakness in the hands that were gripping tight to his shoulders. He couldn't pull her off even if he wanted to.

And there was no stopping this, not anymore, no way. The more he felt of her the more sure he was that there was no other option. There was only skin, and heat, and softness, and Beth, and need that was everywhere. She was everywhere, her lips on his neck, the skin of her naked back against his hands. She was fucking tiny, but he could feel how strong she was, too, lithe muscles just under the skin.

As if to prove her strength, she pulled at his hair, her fingers winding around the long strands at his neck to pull, stinging his scalp and making him snag her lower lip between his teeth. He felt her smile against his mouth, but he didn't return it, his fingers gaining more confidence as they pulled her shirt up to her shoulders.

She raised her arms without any more urging, and he pushed the simple tank up and off of her, dropping it to the ground behind her. He waited just a second this time before running the pads of his fingers up her spine, feeling her press against him more with every vertebrae he passed over. He could feel her heat through his shirt, and pressed her more firmly against him.

Her hands left his chest, and before he could say anything - though to help her or stop her, he wasn't sure - she was unbuttoning her shorts, pulling the zipper down so that they fell slack on her hips.

"Wait," she breathed, and her hands stilled his own as they made their way quickly down her torso to the newly exposed skin of her pelvis. He immediately stopped, heart beating so fast that it shook his frame. He didn't want to stop, wasn't sure he would even be able to keep this slight pause in movement.

"You change your mind?" he asked, and he was nearly embarrassed by how uneven his voice sounded. He tried to even stop breathing as he waited silently for her to tell him that this was all a terrible mistake, trying to prepare himself to pretend they hadn't crossed the line.

But then her hands went to the part of his chest that his half unbuttoned shirt made visible. She traced a gentle spiral down his sternum with the pads of her fingers, and he closed his eyes, all his concentration focused on her touch.

"No," she finally whispered as she started in on the next buttons, her knuckles hitting his stomach with every button undone.

He opened his eyes to find her closer, her own eyes looking down at where her hands worked. He let her finish, releasing his grip on her sides to allow his shirt to fall down his shoulders and to the floor before he spoke. "No what, Beth?" he asked, still not replacing his hands on her waist.

"No, I haven't changed my mind," she said, a little louder than before.

But she still wasn't looking at him, and he needed to see her eyes when she told him that she wanted this. He put his hand on the side of her neck, his thumb on her jaw tilting her face up while his fingers pulled her hair at the back of her head. She gasped shortly at the sharp tug of direction, her mouth slightly open as her eyes met his.

He had to ignore the way that gasp sounded to him, the way having her like this was making him feel, the notable tightening of his pants that, judging from her shifting and the blush coming under his hand, she had noticed, too. "Say it again," he instructed, his voice steady now, not even wanting to blink.

She swallowed, looking away for a split second before meeting his eyes again, her pupils dilated. He was close enough to see her pulse point thrumming, the slight sheen of sweat on her upper lip, the movement of her throat as she swallowed dryly again. "I want this," she asserted, and even though her voice shook, he didn't question that it was true.

He kept his hold on the side of her neck, but reached for her hip with his right hand, dipping his fingers just barely into where her underwear met her pelvis. "Take 'em off, then," he grunted, and snapped the band of her panties against her hip. He wasn't sure where this was coming from, but he liked the way she was listening, the pliantness he felt under his hands as her hips jutted toward his. It wasn't often he was listened to like this, so completely, and he snapped the band again just to hear the smack and the resulting flutter of her pulse against his hand.

She dipped her head at his prompt, a blush flaming up her neck and touching her cheek, and he smirked at how much the tables had turned. This felt more natural, more right than her talking stern to him. This felt like Beth. Capable, strong, hard, stubborn, innocent, but soft, delicate, and, he was beginning to see, a taste of pure sin that was quickly consuming him.

"I'll have to stand up," she said, the blush reaching higher up her cheeks. Her eyes flashed once to his, but she quickly looked away.

He gave her hair another quick tug to get her eyes on his again and then released her, crossing his arms over his chest, nonchalant this time instead of defensive. "So stand," he said, and there was an unintentional challenge in his voice that he could see from the narrowing in her eyes that she had accepted.

He set his mouth in a tight, slight smile that he knew was more cocky than genuine. But he had to, had to keep this dynamic that they had achieved. It helped him focus on the act instead of the situation.

She narrowed her eyes at him even more, then braced herself on his shoulders, using them to lift herself as she stood.

He crossed his legs at the ankle, too, keeping as relaxed as possible so she wouldn't know the shitstorm that was happening as he tried to keep still. His fingers twitched in their fists, hidden from sight by his crossed arms.

She stepped out of the shorts, one leg at a time, flickering golden light falling on endless legs no longer cut short by any fabric. He swallowed, debating whether or not to tell her to keep going, but decided against it, knowing that if she heard how unsteady his voice was it would be all over for him. Instead, he just looked, forgetting his own unease as he took her in.

She was right about one thing: there was nothing girlish about her, not in the curve of her thighs, the cinch of her waist, the soft arch of her breasts.

She must have noticed his gawking, because there was a satisfied smile on her face as she hooked her thumbs in her panties and slipped those off, too. He gnawed on his tongue, wanting to look away but being able to as she put her arms behind her back and unclasped her bra.

He was on his feet before he could even think about what he was doing, before the bra hit the ground, before he could think about anything, because thought was gone. She was surprised by his sudden advance, her mouth a cute "o" as he wrapped an arm around her back to pick her up. Jesus, she was small, weightless, practically nothing at all as he moved her back those few feet to the wall. He could tell she was going to say something, but he didn't want to hear it, not now, and he bent down and kissed her firmly as one hand went to her waist while the other grazed the top of her thigh.

There was still that slight hesitance in touching her, but as she whimpered at the feel of his fingers and her mouth opened more, it was lost. He dipped from the top of her leg to her inner thigh, pressuring her there ever so slightly to widen her stance. She did so instantly, allowing his hand to fit snugly between her thighs as he cupped her, pressing the heel of his hand into her pubic bone. She made another sound and he left her mouth, leaving him to look at her face to see and hear everything that she had to offer.

He'd always been able to read others like this, Beth even easier than most, and now was no different. He saw her eyes close as he swept his thumb through her curls and into her folds, heard her breath hitch as he searched for and found her clit, saw her mouth snap close and then open again as he slid his middle finger easily inside. It had been so long for him, too fucking long, but he was using everything he could remember, everything he had learned as he pressed further with his hand, searching with first one finger and then two. He made a quick circle around her clit, watching her all the while as her head banged back against the wall. Her fingers tried to find purchase on the wall, then his chest, and finally came to a tight grip on his wrist.

She was so wet, and hot, and her feet shifted on the floor so that her legs were even wider. Her teeth dug into her lip, and she winced on the next pump of his fingers. He knew he'd found it, then, the spot that would get her right there with him. His hips moved without his permission in a steady rhythm, his cock jealous of the warmth his fingers were getting, and he wasn't even sure if he could actually last. He focused on her instead and stroked again, bracing his forearm above her head as he curled his fingers in on her walls, and she let out a real gasp as a sheen of sweat formed on her face. Her fingers dug deep into his arm, and her thighs quivered, her head bouncing once again against the wall before she tossed her head forward so that her chin rested on her chest, and she was fucking beautiful. He could see all of her in that moment, her vulnerability and her strength, and he wanted to see it all come apart.

But not like this. He needed to feel her, as close as he could.

He gave her one, two, three more moves of his hand, another swipe of her clit with his thumb, but as soon as he felt the tightening of her walls, he withdrew his hand completely. He didn't wait for her to register what happened, moving his hand to the side of her face to bring her back up to him so that he could kiss her, his hips jutting against her open thighs. Her hands clawed down his chest, and he thought briefly that she was going to push him away for cutting her off so close to the high, but instead she moved to his jeans, clumsily working the buckle. He let her, watching as she pushed his jeans and boxers down to just where his ass met his legs, just enough to let his cock out.

He was just about to pick her up and move her again when her warm hand wrapped around his length, and this time it was his face screwing up in concentrated pleasure. But he could only let her make two passes of her hand before he pulled her off, worried that he was going to blow it before he even really got to feel her.

"Where do you-?" he asked against her lips, pinning her eager hands back against the wall. "Beth, stop fucking moving," he ordered angrily, his hips driving towards her so that his cock hit her stomach, making him close his eyes and pinch his tongue between his teeth. "Where?" he asked again, trying to fucking hold off on the heat between his hips. "We got a couch-"

But she cut him off with a slap of her palm against the wall behind them. "Here," she said, and kissed the area of his chest she was level with.

He threw his head back, clenching his jaw for just a moment to gather himself before he came back to her mouth full force. His hands found the back of her thighs, and in one move, he lifted her to his hips and slid neatly inside of her, hitching her legs securely around him.

There was a sound from both of them, and her face became a mix of surprise, pleasure, and a trace of pain. He cursed himself for moving so quickly, but even so, every inch of his being was begging him to just fucking move. He kissed the base of her neck, reaching the top of her breasts with his tongue as he tried to shut the urges up. Her hand made it's way into his hair, the other holding tight to his bicep. She squeezed him lightly there, arching her back so that he slid even deeper inside, and he needed now to move. But he looked at her face, half cast in shadow, looking for some sign before he let base instincts take over.

She was looking down at first, shadows from her lashes on her cheeks, but then her eyes darted to his, and she gave him a single nod.

That was all he needed.

He propped her up, his fingers boring into her thighs before he replaced his forearm next to her head to hold his weight as he snapped his hips out and then back inside, only giving a few inches this time.

Christ, she felt good. Better. She was nothing short of fucking perfect, her breasts bouncing as he pulled out to thrust back into her with the urgency he had been feeling since she had stripped down in front of him. He looked at her small, pebbled nipples, wishing he had a free hand. He settled instead for squeezing her thigh, his hand pulling at the top of her head so that she was tilted up towards him. He bent forward, his lips meeting hers in a sloppy kiss at the same time he made his way back inside.

"Beth," he whispered, just to taste her name. He felt her clench once around him as he spoke, her eyes briefly meeting his, and he could see fire raging there as he slammed home again.

It was easy to find a rhythm with Beth. Speaking, words, conversation, none of these were his fucking strong suit, he knew. But the physical. The feeling. That was easier. And with Beth, it was even more so. He moved slowly at first, wanting, needing it to be good for her like it was for him, but soon, he was moving into her as fast as he could, as hard as he thought she could take without breaking. He closed his eyes, hearing the slap of his skin against hers as he drove inside, stopping only to re-hitch her thighs around him. He was chasing down their finish as quickly as he could, hoping to God that she was still on that edge he had led her to earlier.

Her brow furrowed in her effort as she tried as best she could to move her hips to meet his.

"Touch me," she gasped, and mewled as he sank deeper than he had been.

He pushed the locks of hair that were sticking to her sweaty face out of the way and held her face, his thumb swiping over her lower lip. "What ya need?" he asked lowly. He couldn't even concentrate, but right now he would do whatever she asked.

"Like before," she answered, just as gone as he was. "Clit. Please,"

He paused in his movements at her words, needing to gather himself. When he was sure that he could move without exploding, he pressed forward so that he was holding her up with his body. This was harder than before - he was beginning to feel his age - but he did it anyways, and when he was sure she wasn't going to fall, his hand left her thigh and squeezed between them. Her breasts pressed against him, her nipples obvious against his chest as she heaved another broken breath. She kept her legs soundly around him on her own, and he could feel her shaking as he searched down to find her swollen clit.

As soon as he touched her, her body jolted and her head came forward so that she rested against his shoulder. He couldn't move as much here, but he didn't care, pressing inside as much as he could. He put pressure on her clit, and her thighs quivered as he forced in that last inch so that he could go no further, her wetness making its way down his length to his balls.

She turned her face away, another pleasurable wince making its way onto her face as he repeated the motion, pulling out just barely only to sink back in. He put his hand on the wall next to her face, but then found her hand that was now bearing down almost painfully into his shoulder. He had meant to just move her, but then her fingers wove their way between is, gripping him tight.

It came before he knew what was happening, a slide of her palm against his, a touch of her clit timed with a surge of his hips that triggered the tightening of her walls around him. Her hand grabbed wildly at his hair, her nails sinking into the nape of his neck as she left his shoulder to heave a broken, dry sob. He didn't know what to do, all his senses taken by this girl, his sight consumed with the nearly pained expression on her face as he moved into her tightness again, his hearing taken over by the gasps of her breath as she inhaled again and again, never quite seeming to release the breath they were both holding. Over and over again, she slammed down around him in a feeling of intense pleasure like he had never felt, shooting down his spine so that he went rigid, coming to a barreling finish with a groan while he was still seated deep inside of her.

He was shocked at the unexpected finish, but still didn't care. He was satisfied in a way he hadn't been in a long time, the relaxing feeling of his orgasm spreading from where he was connected to her to the rest of his limbs, intoxicating his fucking bloodstream. The only sound was their breathing, neither one of them making any move to separate as their heart beats settled down. His hand, still trapped between them, flicked experimentally at her clit. She clenched around him again, her whole body still humming, and he was sure that if he kept it up he would be able to fuck her again, straight through the fucking wall.

But he took mercy, bringing his hand out and replacing it at the side of her face. As the high settled, he thought on what he had just done. They didn't have condoms, but he had meant to at least pull out.

"M'sorry," he said unsteadily, sweat dripping from his hair to her cheek. He shivered all over in another aftershock, still inside her, just letting himself feel her. He carefully memorized the way the flames made the sheen of sweat on both their chests glisten, the clutching of one hand on his bicep while the other rewove her fingers between his. He put his head down, not quite able to make eye contact. "I didn't mean ta-"

"S'alright," she said hurriedly, and let out a breath of a laugh that hit his shoulder, making him shiver again. "Don't apologize."

He smiled, and though it barely fucking lifted the corners of his mouth, it was something other than the monotony of the last few days, and he clung to it. This was what Beth did. She was good. Pure. And she was one of the only good things he had left now.

But then her legs slackened, her feet touching the ground as her hands loosened their hold on his. He stepped back, closing his eyes at the loss of heat, and when he opened them again she had stepped out from where he'd had her cornered.

He immediately sensed it, the wrongness, the imbalance, the world slowly coming back into place. "Beth?" he tried, but she ignored him, picking her shorts off the floor and sliding them on, her underwear already in place. "Ya don't gotta-"

"I do," she said, and then sniffed, still not looking at him as he followed her lead by pulling up his jeans from around his thighs. "This, uh," she said, and rubbed her arm while her forehead crinkled. "It doesn't change anything, does it?"

He wasn't sure what she meant, pausing with his shirt just on his shoulders. He was slower now as he did up the buttons, staring at the floor and thinking about her question. Their situation was the same. The prison hadn't magically been reclaimed. No fucking switch had been pulled. But something was very definitely different.

But he couldn't find the words, couldn't ever find the right fucking words, and when she turned around and looked at him, all he could do was shrug angrily. It hadn't even been five minutes. How had he fucked up so quickly?

She bowed her head at the gesture, closing her eyes and tucking strands of hair behind her ear. Her lip was trembling now, her forehead wrinkled in concentration, but all he could do was watch. Even his breaths sounded awkward, and he looked away towards the now much weaker flames.

They stood there for a few moments before she moved, laying down heavily on the couch so that a cloud of dust rose into the air. She crossed her arms, tucking her knees up, and still, all he could do was watch. What had he done?

"He's still dead," she whispered, and a single tear fell followed by another, dripping down the bridge of her nose and across to the opposite cheek. "They all are."

He didn't know what to say. If he hadn't felt like a piece of shit before he definitely did now. He felt it all over again: the guilt, the self hatred, the exhausting loneliness, and all the faces of the family he had lost flashed through his mind. Beth had been a temporary fix, a bandaid for a bullet hole that he never should have accepted, and he felt it all crashing around him now.

Next time, he would keep his words to himself.

**Heh heh heh...it wouldn't be one of mine if there wasn't angst. Review if you hate me. Also review if you don't. That'd be cool, too. **


End file.
